


Stubborn

by TheFairysPath (friendlyneighborhoodfairy)



Series: The Path I Took (WWTDP 2018) [7]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Cancer, Dominance, F/F, Making Love, Scissoring, double mastectomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 11:17:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16263107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlyneighborhoodfairy/pseuds/TheFairysPath
Summary: Fighting with her doctor about her breast cancer treatment exhausts Wendy. She finds consolation in the rhythm of Chelia's body against hers.(Fic #7 forWhen We Take Different PathsWLW week.)





	Stubborn

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt = stubborn + Chendy. Modern AU, characters in their 50s.
> 
> I am a few days behind, sorry xoxo.

"For the last time, this is what I want."

Wendy's voice was quiet and firm, though irritation was starting to show. The doctor stared at her in consternation, her brow quirked as if she just couldn't understand.

"I don't need them," Wendy went on. "Why would I? My wife certainly doesn't care. I'm not crazy, and please don't tell me again that I need to see a therapist to make sure my head is okay. I'm alright with the flat chest. You think my self-worth is based on my boobs? My health is what matters to me, not patriarchal standards of beauty."

The woman sighed.

Chelia squeezed Wendy's shoulder. They'd been having this conversation with the doctors for a week now. Every time, Wendy's answer was the same, and every time, the doctors tried to persuade her otherwise.

"Very well," the doctor said, nodding her head. "It's clear you've thought a lot about this. And you can always change your mind at a later date."

"Right," Wendy said, a heavy layer of skepticism in her voice.

Chelia was used to her wife being the calm, gentle one: kind to everyone and careful in her words. But she understood completely why Wendy was more frustrated and edgy these days. Her body had been practically destroyed fighting the cancer, she was tired and achey and in pain, and people insisted on arguing with her about what she wanted.

All because, as Wendy had tried to point out to the woman, she was a woman and not a man.

'The curse of the cunt' they'd started calling it. It had turned into a joke. How even with this, breast cancer, a struggle that was so female, it was men whose opinions were garnered about how women's bodies ought to be treated. Commodified, told that the doctors could 'help' them to 'be normal' again—where normal meant beautiful to the male gaze.

"So that leaves our treatment at…"

While Wendy and the doctor got down to the actually important bits, Chelia fished around for her notebook. She was Wendy's note-taker at these appointments. She was whatever Wendy needed. It was the least she could do.

* * *

"Fuck this shit," Wendy growled as they walked in the door.

She never swore, and Chelia glanced over at her in consideration.

"Is there something particular you feel like right now?" she asked carefully.

"Sex," Wendy said, before she could stop herself.

Chelia had moved toward her, eyes sparking, when Wendy raised a hand.

"Sorry, I don't…never mind. I'm too tired."

"Are you sure?" Chelia raised a seductive eyebrow. "I have some creative ideas if you just want to lie there."

"I'm not a pillow princess," Wendy said, scornful. Inhaling, she reined in her tone. "Sorry. Thank you, love, but I won't make you do that."

"Who said anything about making?"

Chelia stepped up to her and ran her arms down Wendy's arms, making her shiver despite her denials.

"Do you want to try? If you find you don't enjoy it, we can stop…"

Wendy bit her lip. She didn't have the energy to do anything for her wife—even thinking about scissoring, which had always been her favorite thing, exhausted her. And yet her body craved touch. She wanted release.

"Are you sure?" she murmured, succumbing to Chelia's gentle touch on her shoulders, fingers sliding up Wendy's neck.

"Yes," Chelia said.

"Okay."

Chelia kissed the side of her throat, ghosting down until she could suck sensually on Wendy's collarbone. Wendy was taut, didn't know how to relax, but Chelia just kept going and soon she was sucking a bruise into Wendy's skin and Wendy was making soft sounds as the touch overwhelmed her.

"Come to bed with me," Chelia whispered, and led her down the hall.

Chelia insisted on Wendy lying down while she undressed her—unbuttoning her overshirt, then working more carefully as she removed Wendy's tanktop. Wendy still wasn't used to the way her chest felt: simultaneously normal and not; in pain and sensitive but also…not there.

She let those thoughts flow over her and out again. For now, Chelia was moving over her body enjoying her, making sounds of appreciation as she laid gentle kisses down Wendy's skin. She kissed down her sternum and her stomach, and then nipped at Wendy's side while her thumbs slid over Wendy's hipbones.

Wendy arched a little, moaning, letting Chelia remove her trousers, but Chelia made no move to do so. Instead, she straightened up and took off her own shirt, stripping her top quickly and leaning back down over her.

In that warm space between their bare skin, Wendy felt connection and desire. She found herself panting, wanting to place their skin flush against each other, but too sore to move up in Chelia's embrace. This frustrated her for a moment, but Chelia kissed her, tugging Wendy's lip with her teeth, and Wendy made a growly noise and kissed her harder.

One of Chelia's legs came between her thighs and nudged them open, spreading her wide. They both still wore their trousers, and when Chelia slotted them together, it took an increase of pressure before Wendy began to feel the sensations she was desperate for.

"Ahhh, fuck, I love you," Chelia groaned, arms shaking on either of Wendy's head.

Wendy stared at her, hair in her face, breasts hanging, muscles tight, and she found she wasn't jealous. Chelia was beautiful, healthy, and she delighted in that. Chelia was the unbroken part of her.

Closing her eyes, Wendy felt Chelia bear down, her thigh tight between Wendy's legs while her own clit pressed against Wendy's leg.

Wendy tried to join in her thrusting but quickly found it was too much for her. But that was alright, because Chelia's thrusts grew into hard strokes, the cloth between them making it so that she could be—had to be—rough.

The roughness ground against the glorious places of Wendy's body, the feelings that made her feel like herself, quite apart from how she looked or how strong she was. With her eyes shut, she could experience her body without having to think about others' judgments or perceptions.

And Chelia didn't judge it. Chelia experienced Wendy's body and loved it like she did.

"Oh gods," Chelia gasped, little moans escaping now with every hard move.

Her thighs clenched around Wendy's leg. Though Wendy would normally have taken this opportunity to press her thigh harder against her wife's clit, today she let Chelia do it, a warm smile breaking over her face as she felt Chelia's legs clamping impossibly hard, then jolting against her, then undulating in heavy strokes that slowly tapered off.

But Chelia didn't leave her perch, keeping pressed against Wendy as she continued to move, harder now, grinning when Wendy kept gasping, "Chelia—mmm, fuck, darling, yes…"

When she came, it was in great gasps, body shuddering, sound groaning out of her as if the pain were leaving her physically, to be replaced with contentment. Chelia's arms wrapped around her and held her close, rocking her through it. Wendy didn't notice she was crying until Chelia wiped her cheek.

"How was that, darling?" she asked.

"Yes," Wendy gasped, crying harder. "Thank you. Thank you."

"Mm, you're welcome," Chelia hummed. "I have the best orgasms with you."

Wendy laughed weakly. "Even when I'm a limp noodle?"

"You weren't a limp noodle. You were actually a tense, hot lady who I thoroughly enjoyed having beneath me." Chelia nuzzled her, sliding up cloesr, their bare skin pressed together, legs tangling. "Thank you for letting me fuck you. That was…it was really hot. I really wanted to do that. I know it wasn't easy."

"It was incredibly easy," Wendy laughed, even though she knew what Chelia meant. "I didn't have to do anything and I got to feel amazing. You are really good at all of that, you know. You play my instrument so well."

"I've had a lot of years of practice," Chelia said with a grin.

Wendy let out a long exhale, letting her body sink back into the bed.

"Chelia," she said, more quietly. "I hope we can still make love like that even years from now…even when we're senile and silly."

"I hope so too," Chelia whispered back. "I'd certainly like to try. Whenever you're up for it."

"Whenever  _you're_  up for it."

"I actually…really like being in control?" Chelia's voice tapered off on a high note, skin reddening. "So that was a treat for me. Getting to do that to you. With you. For you. I mean, we can figure out a balance, and if it makes you uncomfortable, or you want control sometimes, or whatnot…we'll figure it out and negotiate. But I'm just saying you should never feel guilty or like you're 'making me do all the work.' That's not how it feels to me at all."

"Oh."

In the wake of happiness, Wendy found she could accept that wholly. Her heart opened up to it and allowed it to sink in.

"You're a marvel," she said, brushing her knuckles over Chelia's face.

"I'm a Blendy-Marvel," Chelia teased.

"Haha." Wendy hugged her. "Do you want to eat ice cream and watch Netflix?"

" 'Netflix and chill'?"

Wendy laughed. "Maybe again in a bit? I need a breather first."

"Of course. I don't want to over-orgasm you."


End file.
